Transformers: The Odyssey
by Philip S
Summary: (G1) The war on Cybertron has been deadlocked for years when the supercomputer Vector Sigma finds a trace of the Matrix. Four Autobots are sent on a mission to find the Ark and long-lost Autobot leader Optimus Prime. But Vector Sigma has its own agenda.


**Transformers: The Odyssey  
Episode 1: The Odyssey Begins**

* * *

Notes on the Story: This story is something of a reboot of the original series with some elements from the movie and the Armada cartoon included. Most of what you'll have to know in order to understand the story will be mentioned in this first episode. I assume most people who are going to read this will know the principle players and what things like Vector Sigma, the Matrix, and such are. If not, don't worry. Brief explanations will be given. 

A note on time: I always found it somewhat ridiculous that the Transformers were stranded on Earth for four million years, yet when they returned to Cybertron everyone behaved as if they'd been gone just a few years. Yes, I know that with beings who are technically immortal time probably won't matter as much, but it still bugged me. So the time of exile will be much shorter on this story.

Also, I'll be using some of the traditional Cybertronian time measurements, somewhat adapted for my own little story universe. Here's a brief overview:

1 Astrosecond = 0.49 seconds  
1 Breem = 1000 Astroseconds = 8.3 minutes  
1 Megacycle (Cybertronian hour) = 10 Breems = 83 minutes  
1 Astrocycle (Cybertronian day) = 1000 breems = 138 hours and 20 minutes  
1 Vorn (Cybertronian year) = 5260 Astrocycles = 83 years

That's about it. Hope you enjoy this story and let me know if you do.

* * *

Prologue: The Awakening 

The first sign of renewed life was the slight flickering of a long-dead monitor-screen, tiny joules of energy running along long-neglected power lines. The screen was but one in a huge bank of screens in an even vaster chamber, much of which was still shrouded in darkness. The pale light of the one active screen was nowhere near sufficient to chase all the shadows away.

A keen observer might have spotted the curious remains littering the floor in front of the screens even in this semi-darkness. Among shards from several shattered screens there were metal parts that looked almost as if they had once been part of a humanoid form. A metal hand was there, clutched into a fist. Remains of battle armour, scarred and broken. A handheld weapon, its energy charge long spent.

There was no observer to notice all these things, but if there had been he would probably have been more interested in the deep humming that started to fill the chamber instead of the dead debris on the ground. The humming slowly grew in intensity as, one by one, more screens flickered and brightened. For the moment they showed nothing but static, but it was evident by now that the vast structure was slowly coming back to life.

The humongous computer behind the screens was, for the moment, still inactive. There was not enough energy to reactivate it, too many of its pathways and systems were still damaged. Its creators had planned ahead for such contingencies, though. Autonomous subsystems began to come online, shielded emergency backups installed for a case just like this, and began analyzing the damage inflicted upon their master system.

Results began trickling in, slowly forming a picture. Damage was extensive. The entire system had gone into emergency shutdown to prevent permanent deactivation. Core systems remained offline but were not beyond repair. The trickle of energy that had started the subsystems was the result of small array of solar panels, deployed just before shutdown. They had gathered what energy they could over time (no telling yet how much time) until it was sufficient to initiate reactivation.

The subsystems were not aware in any sense of the word, nor were they very intelligent. They were created for one purpose only, to bring the master system back to life. They didn't care what had happened, how much time had passed, or where they were. Their task was to repair, so they began to do just that.

First estimates showed that the repair work would take some time. The core systems could not be brought back online for now lest they suffer further damage. Another subroutine came online, its purpose to evaluate external threats and take appropriate countermeasures to protect the master system until such time as it was fully active and aware once more.

External sensors received just enough energy to function, coming online and peering out into the vastness of space. Data began streaming in, showing a picture of the surrounding environment. Space, the subroutine concluded, near a planet-sized gravity well. The master system was currently in orbit around a celestial body of some kind. Sensors could not pick up any signs of life in the immediate vicinity. The planet below showed some signs of civilization, but nothing even remotely advanced enough to threaten the master system.

Satisfied with the analysis the subroutine shut down again. For the moment there was no threat to the master system. It would come back online in regular intervals to re-evaluate the tactical situation, but for now no action was required.

Repairs to the master system commenced.

OOOOO

Hundreds of light years away another computer system suddenly came active as well. The system had always been online as far back as anyone could remember, but this level of activity was quite unusual. Lights blinked, systems surged with tripled power demands, the humming of generators filled the room.

A program came online - one that had been online but once before in the computer's memory - sifted through the gathered data and came to a single, inescapable conclusion. A conclusion that caused something very much like an emotion in the computer, an emotion organic creatures might have called fear.

Unlike organic creatures, though, the computer was incapable of being overwhelmed by this feeling. It sprang into action at once, analyzing all available courses of action and deciding on one within moments. Vast servo engines sprang to life around it as the action was implemented.

The vast super computer called Vector Sigma shuddered slightly as the chamber it was in began to move.

OOOOO

The ancient robot's optics narrowed in intense concentration as he studied the screen in front of him. There, a slight error in the programming code. Corrected a moment later. He continued scanning, scrolling through the program thousands of lines at a time. Internally he lamented his decreased processing speed. Age was beginning to take its toll on him. Ten-thousand vorns ago he would already have finished this work and begun the next.

He completely ignored the muffled roar of explosions audible from far overhead. He was used to that by now. They were a lot less frequent than they used to be actually. The war was still going on, but neither side had the energy to spare for massive carpet bombings or any such nonsense. Small skirmishes, that was all, They had been going on for what seemed like forever and would probably go on for much longer.

Suddenly, though, there was a tremor that did not hail from above. The old robot paused, cocking his head as his sensors searched for the source of the disturbance. It seemed familiar, but his data access wasn't as rapid as it used to be, either. Finally he remembered and something like unease swept across his systems.

Rising from his chair, he found a hidden switch which caused a hidden trapdoor to open. Anyone who knew him would have called that excessive. His very existence was a closely guarded secret, the location of his home and workplace known to but three living beings (or maybe just two, he couldn't be certain about the third anymore). So why keep a hidden door in a place that no one would ever find in the first place?

The old one didn't consider himself paranoid or excessive. He had just seen and experienced too much to be anything but extremely careful. Beyond the hidden door there was a flight of stairs leading further down into the underground. The walls on either side of him were vibrating slightly, the ground shuddered as if something very big was approaching.

After a breem or two he reached a vast underground chamber and simply waited, the tremors around him growing stronger. The far wall of the chamber suddenly began to shift and transform, opening up to allow something inside. The old robot didn't flinch as most others might have done. He had seen this particular sight before.

When the tremors finally subsided the formerly empty chamber was now filled by the vast supercomputer Vector Sigma, whose primary core pulsed with light.

"ALPHA TRION," the computer spoke. "YOU HAVE BEEN SUMMONED."

End Prologue

* * *

Chapter 1: The Young Ones 

The red and yellow ground racer swerved wildly to the right to evade the searing plasma bolts raining down on it from above. It took the next turn with screeching tires, changing directions so fast that the three airborne attackers momentarily overshot his position, giving him a brief respite before they were blasting him again.

"How are you guys doing?" the racer inquired over a secure frequency, his voice sounding rather cheerful for someone dodging death.

"Good enough. Can you keep them busy for another half breem?" a voice replied.

"No problem. These guys couldn't hit an Empty if he stopped for a rest."

"Just make sure to keep your hide intact, lad," a third voice intruded. "No showboating, no grandstanding! Got it?"

"Ah, you're no fun, Kup!"

Despite his cheerful comments the young Autobot called Hot Rod was very much aware of the severity of his situation. His job was to keep the three Seekers occupied long enough for the others to do their job. That meant he was neither allowed to outdistance them (something he was quite sure he could do) nor to shoot them down (which he wasn't so sure about). The first would result in them returning to their abandoned posts, the latter in the sending of reinforcements. Neither of which he could allow to happen.

So he kept swerving and weaving, using the ruins of the city he was driving through for cover as much as he could. The three Decepticons were getting closer and closer, though. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this up.

Not that he would ever tell anyone so.

"Okay, Roddie," the voice of his partner crackled across the airwaves. "We're done here. Time for the fun part."

"I read you!"

Without warning he made a U-turn and raced back the way he had come, catching the three Seekers by surprise. Moments later they were above him again, though, peppering him with laser shots. He had yet to take a serious hit, but his shell was adorned with several scorch marks, his energon levels were starting to run low, and his current heading would take him right back to the Decepticon supply base he had just managed to get away from. He was a desperate bot running for his life.

Or so the Seekers thought.

"Ready, Arcee?" someone asked on their frequency.

"Ready, Springer!"

"Okay, people, here I come," Hot Rod said, racing down between two ruined towers. The Seekers were hot on his trail. The supply base was coming into sight on the horizon, a dome-shaped structure with the purple Decepticon crest adorning its front gate.

"NOW!"

The moment he was right between the buildings Hot Rod hit the brakes for all they were worth and transformed into his robot mode. Flipping onto his back he came to a screeching halt, raising his arm-mounted laser cannons upward at the approaching Seekers. A moment later he fired, glaring beams reaching upward and slicing the wing right off the middle plane to send it tumbling toward the ground.

The other two had no time to react. Without warning a single shot rang out from the left of the two ruined towers, spearing the left Seeker right through his centre. Hot Rod didn't need to double-check to know that the shot had taken out the Decepticon's brain box. Arcee never missed.

The third Seeker survived only moments longer. From the right tower a green shape sprang upward, a gleaming object in hand. Maybe the Seeker had time to see his doom coming, maybe not. It didn't make a difference as Springer's sword effectively cleaved the Decepticon in half, the parts careening off into different directions. Moments later the Autobot hit the ground, his powerful leg mechanisms absorbing the shock of impact with ease.

"Three for three," Hot Rod chuckled, getting back to his feet in time to see Arcee climbing down to join them. "The Terrible Trio strikes again."

The white and pink femme robot just gave an answering grin and blew off imaginary smoke from her sniper rifle before clipping it back to her leg. Springer walked up to Hot Rod, giving the scorch marks on his shell a deliberate glance.

"Look at that, Roddie! Off day or just looking for an excuse to meet that hot medic again?"

"You're just jealous because she wouldn't give your boring pain job a second look, Springer!"

"Quit the back-patting," a fourth Autobot interrupted. An old-style cargo vehicle pulled up beside them, transforming into a blue and grey robot moments later. "It's time to get out of here and back to Iacon."

The other three Autobots nodded and transformed into their vehicle modes. Moments later all four took off. Neither of them slowed down when the supply base behind them was destroyed by the planted demolition charges.

OOOOO

The drive back to Iacon was uneventful. The Autobots' primary base, located in the ruins of their capital city, was heavily fortified and the Decepticons seldom came near it. Neither, Kup mused, did Autobots usually venture close to Polyhex. The Decepticon capital was just as heavily fortified and with the ongoing energy crisis neither side had the resources to launch the kind of attack needed to crack these kind of fortifications.

Transforming back into robot mode the old warrior made a routine inspection of the outer perimeter cannons. Everything looked good. Autobot soldiers manned the walls and kept close watch of their scanners and the horizon. Readiness hadn't slacked off in a long time despite the fact that the last major Decepticon attack on Iacon had occurred more than a hundred vorns ago.

Kup was in a sour mood, though. Most Autobots would say that he was always in such a mood, but as of late he had become even grimmer than usual. The reason for that was actually very simple, really. He hated the way the war was going, that was all there was to it. He was a warrior, had been one for nearly half a million vorns now, but all he did lately was small raids such as this, of no real consequence to either side.

The war had stagnated almost to a hold. Cybertron, their home world, had once been rich in energy, but those cycles were long gone. The war had consumed nearly all reserves and what remained today was just enough to keep the populace from starving. What energy could be spared for the war effort barely sufficed to fuel the defences and the occasional skirmish. So both sides sat and waited for the other to make some kind of terminal mistake, but neither side ever did.

To Kup it was more than bit frustrating. Unlike some of the younger soldiers under his command he remembered what it had been like during the Golden Age when no one had ever wanted for energy. He also remembered the starting days of the war, when it had looked as if the Decepticons would sweep the entire planet within a hundred cycles.

Most vividly he remembered the day the Autobots had shown the Decepticons that the war would not be easy, nor would it be short. After the death of Sentinel Prime Megatron thought he had the Autobots on the run, but then Optimus Prime took command and turned the war around. Not enough to win it, no, but enough to keep the Decepticons at bay indefinitely.

These cycles were gone, too. Gone like Optimus Prime and Megatron, gone like the massive battles and decisive victories. At its current rate the war would continue on for another hundred-thousand vorns, Kup knew, and there was nothing either side could do about it.

There had been that brief flicker of hope four vorns ago. The day Optimus Prime left aboard the Ark to seek out new sources of energy. If he could find enough energy and bring it back to Cybertron there might be an end to the war. They could defeat the Decepticons and restore the Golden Age. But time passed and Prime was never heard from again, so that brief flicker of hope withered and died.

"Hey, Kup," a voice said, tearing him out of his gloomy thoughts. "There is a visitor waiting to see you in your office."

Kup frowned at the young Autobot soldier in front of him, but eventually just nodded and headed toward his office. Hot Rod, Arcee, and Springer were busy chatting about their short battle, complimenting each other on their moves while at the same time trying to one-up one another. Oh, to be that young again.

Walking inside, he quickly composed a short report file of the raid and sent it to Ultra Magnus. Iacon's City Commander would probably have a few more questions to be handled in person, but that could wait. It hadn't been that important a mission. Enough time for Kup to meet whatever Autobot had chosen to visit him. Who could it be? Most people who would visit Kup socially were long deactivated. He didn't have much in the way of friends. Fellow soldiers who respected him, yes, but friends? Not so much.

Opening the door to his office, he nearly froze in place when he saw who his visitor was.

"Hello, old friend," Alpha Trion said. "Sorry to drop in on you like this, but there is an urgent matter we must discuss."

End Chapter 1

* * *

Chapter 2: The Assignment 

"Any idea what this is about?"

Arcee looked at her two friends, but both of them just shrugged, obviously clueless why they were being summoned at this hour. Normal procedure for Autobots returning from a combat mission was at least half a cycle of downtime. None of them was scheduled for another mission or guard duty anytime soon.

Still, when your commanding officer told you to come to his office, you came to his office.

Neither Hot Rod nor Springer seemed terribly bothered. Not that she should be surprised about that. If not for the regulations they would never take any downtime between missions. A phenomenon if there ever was one, really. The entire planet was in the grip of a permanent energy famine, but young males always had energy to burn. If only someone were to find a means to strap them into a generator or something.

Arcee smiled. She was well aware of how many of the other Autobots viewed the three of them. They weren't called the Terrible Trio for nothing. Reckless hotheads, all of them. Young and not looking to get any older. But they were also among the best there were at what they did, so usually people didn't complain too much. Besides, she kind of liked to be known as the level-headed one, even if only in comparison to her two comrades.

"My bet is Ultra Magnus has some kind of important mission he can't trust to anyone else," Hot Rod speculated. "So it's up to us to save the day."

"Right!" Arcee gave him an indulgent grin. "Because our fearless leader so admires how you always follow the orders and never get in over your head, Roddie."

"How many times has Magnus admonished you?" Springer asked mockingly. "Was it forty times? Or forty-one already?"

"Unless I'm very much mistaken," Hot Rod shot back, "you are following close behind in that particular high score, my friend."

"Only because I always have to bail you out of trouble."

"I thought that was my job?" Arcee asked with a smile.

"No, your job is to rescue Springer when he gets in over his head trying to rescue me after I get in over my head."

"Well, there probably is some truth to be found there."

The three friends snickered, their easy banter doing its usual job of distracting them from any worries they might have because of this unusual summons. All three of them fell quiet once they arrived at Magnus' office, though. Riling the straight-laced City Commander might be something of a pastime for the trio, but never when it came down to business. And this was most assuredly business.

"Come in," a voice said from inside moments after Springer had hit the buzzer.

The three Autobots walked inside, surprised to see two other people beside Ultra Magnus already present. The City Commander towered over everyone, his armoured form impressive to the point of intimidating. Next to him Kup seemed slight, but his battle-scarred shell seemed to radiate experience and wisdom. He didn't have to take any kind of backseat to Ultra Magnus.

The third bot present was an unknown to the three friends. If possible he seemed even older than Kup, his shell faded with age, his design ancient to the point of looking alien. There was something about him, though, something all three of them felt. A nagging feeling of familiarity. A quick scan of their databases showed that they had never seen him before, though.

"Squadron Theta reporting as ordered, sir," Springer formally reported. Their official squadron name was rarely used in the field, but Ultra Magnus liked to do things by the book. This also meant that Springer, though holding the same rank as the rest of them, functioned as their superior because he was the oldest (if only by a few cycles).

"At ease, soldiers," Magnus said, sitting down in his chair. "You're probably wondering why you're here and who our visitor is." He motioned toward the unknown Autobot. "Kup, why don't you start."

"To get the introductions over with," the veteran began, "this is Alpha Trion."

Arcee nearly gasped, the name ringing an immediate bell. From the looks of Springer and Hot Rod's faces they, too, recognized it. If anyone but Ultra Magnus were in the room with them she would believe someone was having fun with them.

Alpha Trion was a myth. The oldest and quite possibly the first Autobot, his age measured in millions of vorns. If one believed the stories he was the father of their kind and had personally created the most famous Autobots in history, up to and including the legendary Optimus Prime. That was all just a myth, though, wasn't it?

"I get this reaction a lot," Alpha Trion said, his voice sounding slightly amused. "Yes, I'm quite real. And while there is some artistic freedom in the stories told about me, many of them are actually true, too."

Arcee looked at Ultra Magnus and Kup, searching for any signs that they were kidding or that they didn't believe that this Autobot was really who he was. There were no such signs, though.

"It's ... an honour to meet you, Alpha Trion," she finally said.

"Thank you, my dear. I have heard a lot of good things about you three. A lot of bad things, too, but that is to be expected from the young." He chuckled.

"The reason we are all here," Kup continued, "is that Alpha Trion has brought us what could be very good news."

The three young Autobots perked up, looking expectedly at the ancient Transformer. Good news were in short supply these days. Every little bit was appreciated.

"Yesterday I conferred with Vector Sigma," Alpha Trion said, causing another round of gasps from his listeners. Vector Sigma, the hallowed supercomputer at the heart of Cybertron. The machine that was responsible for giving life to every single Transformer in existence, including everyone in this room.

""How is that possible?" Hot Rod asked. "Vector Sigma has been lost for at least a hundred vorns."

"Yeah, our generation was the last to be created before it disappeared without a trace," Springer added.

"Oh, Vector Sigma did not disappear," Alpha Trion assured them. "It just likes to move around now and then. After all, it wouldn't do for the sole source of procreation of our race to always be in the same spot where everyone could simply get at it, would it?"

"It ... moves?" Arcee asked.

"Yes. Every now and then. Just yesterday it moved to me. About a dozen levels beneath my laboratory to be exact. And we had a very interesting chat."

Arcee was entertaining the notion that the old Autobot might be talking nonsense, but from the intense looks both Ultra Magnus and Kup sported she doubted it.

"According to Alpha Trion," Ultra Magnus said, "Vector Sigma has detected a signal. A signal it believes hails from the Matrix."

Shocked silence reigned in the room. The Matrix? The Autobot Matrix of Leadership? This had to be a joke, right? Everyone knew that the Matrix was lost forever. Optimus Prime had been the last Autobot leader to carry it and Optimus was lost somewhere in space, probably destroyed.

"Believe me, I was as surprised as any of you," Alpha Trion said. "But Vector Sigma is certain. The Matrix survives. And if the Matrix has survived there is a chance that its bearer still functions as well."

Every Autobot present considered this. Optimus Prime. Could he be alive? It was under his command that the tide had been turned. His leadership had kept the Autobots going during a war that, all too often, had seemed hopeless. The day he left, never to return, had been a truly dark day, the sole consolation that he had seemingly taken Megatron and a large number of his elite Decepticons with him to the Inferno.

"If there is any chance Optimus Prime is still alive we have to find him," Hot Rod said with surprising assertiveness.

"That's the idea, lad," Kup told him. "To be more precise, that's the reason why the three of you are here."

"Us?" Springer asked. "With all due respect, but we're not exactly cut out for search & rescue. We're warriors."

"Besides," Arcee added, "Prime and his squadron were lost in deep space. With the current energy famine there isn't enough energon to spare to power a shuttle, much less the kind of long-range ship needed for this kind of interplanetary search."

"Do we even have such a ship?"

Ultra Magnus raised his hand, calling for silence. "You are partially correct. We don't have the energy for such a search & rescue mission, nor do we have personnel experienced in such a task. What we do have, though, is a ship. It was never used, but should be in good working order. And, according to Alpha Trion here, we do have the means of launching it into space."

Everyone turned to look at the ancient Autobot, who gave them a grin.

"How?" Hot Rod finally ran out of patience.

"Oh, it's simple, really. Highly dangerous. But feasible."

Arcee waited for him to say more, but he didn't.

"Okay, so we have a ship," Springer finally said, looking suspiciously at Alpha Trion. "That still doesn't explain why you want the three of us to do this."

"The three of you plus Kup, to be exact." Ultra Magnus motioned toward the veteran Autobot. "Out of all of us he is the only one with any kind of knowledge regarding interstellar travel. As for the three of you, well, you are right that you are warriors. So is everyone else here. We don't have anyone trained for this kind of mission. What I do have is the three of you. Young, reckless, but also very good at what you do. You'll be out on your own out there, no support, no reinforcements, nothing. Which should be right up your alley if I'm not mistaken."

Arcee wasn't sure whether he was paying them a compliment or just the opposite.

"This is a highly dangerous mission," Magnus continued. "Not just because of the way we'll get you off Cybertron, either. There is no telling what might await you out there. The best Vector Sigma can give us is a general heading. You'll be searching for the microchip in the junkyard and that's putting it mildly. I won't order any of you to go on this mission, but..."

"We'll do it, sir," Hot Rod said without waiting for the rest of them. "We'll find Prime and bring him home."

"Damn right we will," Springer joined him.

Arcee sighed, shaking her head. "I guess someone has to keep you boys out of trouble. Again. Count me in, sir."

Ultra Magnus smiled, though he clearly had expected nothing less.

"Good. It will take a few cycles to dust off the ship and for Alpha Trion to prepare it for launch. I want you to take the time to undergo full maintenance and all available upgrades. First Aid has been informed of your coming. Then you'll download all the files regarding the Ark's mission and what little we know of the Decepticons that vanished along with them. By the time we launch I want all that info safely stored away in your heads, understood?"

"Yes, sir," all three of them replied.

"Good! Then get to it, Autobots! I want our lost friends home, the sooner the better."

End Chapter 2

* * *

Chapter 3: Toward the Unknown 

Springer watched as the last of the available supplies were loaded into the ship, his optics scanning the hull for the hundredth time. Just nervousness, he told himself. You've never been in space before, that's all. Just another venture out into the field. Not even any Decepticons looking to incinerate you. Just a walk in the park.

Yeah, right.

He cast a worried glance over to where Alpha Trion was working on the ship's engines. As ships went the Axalon was pretty unimpressive, looking almost like an oversized shuttle. There was some resemblance to the Ark, the legendary spacecraft Optimus Prime and his squadron had used on their ill-fated journey four vorns ago. The technology was tried and true, if a bit dated. No worries there.

The means by which Alpha Trion intended to blast them into space, though, where anything but tried and true. Springer had only understood half of what the old scientist had said, but what little he'd understood more than sufficed to make him rethink his decision to go on this mission more than once.

Plasma energy. One of the few remaining energy sources on Cybertron, and for good reason. Plasma energy was as powerful, if not more so, than energon, but also highly unstable. Those few Transformers who had tried to power themselves with it had come to bitter ends very quickly. Plasma energy was too unstable to be a power source and even those who had tried using it as a weapon had eventually given up, as it tended to backfire more often than not. Springer didn't know how or why someone had created a storage chamber for this kind of energy, but it was of no use to anyone, even on an energy-starved world such as Cybertron.

Alpha Trion believed he had found a use. True, the plasma energy couldn't be used to power the Axalon's systems, but it could very well be used to propel it into space, or so he said. Springer knew as well as anyone that the most energy-costly manoeuvre of any space voyage happened right at the start, the breaking free of the planet's gravity well.

There was also the little matter of them having just enough energon cubes to power the ship's wormhole generator for single jump, afterwards they would have to look for other sources of energy to continue their journey. Springer wasn't currently thinking that far ahead, though. He just hoped to reach escape velocity in one piece.

Tearing himself away from the scientist (who was humming some kind of eerie melody while working) he looked towards his friends. Hot Rod was busy checking out all the goodies currently being loaded onto the ship. Ultra Magnus was giving up a lot of energon cubes and equipment to outfit their mission, that much was for sure. Springer just hoped the Autobots' acting commander wouldn't come to regret it during the next skirmish. Hot Rod seemed to have no such worries. Then again, he never seemed to worry about anything, at least not outwardly.

Arcee was standing in a group of femme Autobots, saying goodbye to her sisters. There weren't many of their kind left, which meant the surviving females were a tightly knit group that stuck together through thick and thin. Springer knew that Arcee had caught some flak from the older femmes, especially Chromia, concerning her close friendship with two male Autobots, but Arcee wasn't one to be deterred by other people's opinions.

He doubted any of the femmes would object to this particular mission. After all, their former leader Elita-One was one of the Autobots who had gone with Optimus Prime four vorns ago. There was also a rumour that Chromia and Ironhide, another of Prime's people, had had a thing going for quite some time.

The final member of their little expedition, Kup, was currently chatting with Ultra Magnus. Magnus would no doubt miss Kup. The veteran warrior might have a tendency to reminiscence a bit too much at times (and Springer doubted that even half his wild tales were true), but no one could doubt his experience. Magnus was losing a valuable advisor and capable field leader.

Springer checked his weapons for what had to be the hundredth time, mostly to distract himself. Hot Rod and he were the original jokers, always trying to lighten the grim mood, but the gravity of their upcoming mission was stifling his sense of humour quite a bit. Facing off against Decepticons wasn't that much of a thing. Dangerous, yes, but Springer knew how to handle Decepticons, knew what to expect from them. Out there, though, who could tell what they might encounter?

And what if they did find Prime? What then? Somehow Springer doubted that they'd simply escort him back to Cybertron where he would pick up the reigns of command again to lead them to victory. Springer hadn't served directly under Prime before his disappearance, but he had studied enough reports to know that, ever since his disappearance, Prime's reputation had grown out of proportion. Prime's return wouldn't fix everything and it wouldn't win the war for them.

Was this whole mission just a colossal waste of time and effort then? He shook that thought away. This wasn't the kind of thought people expected him to have. He was the good-humoured one. The witty adventurer. This was just another adventure and he would share it with his two best friends. What more could an Autobot want?

"Everything's ready," Alpha Trion announced. Looking at the cobbled-together contraption he had attached to the Axalon's engines immediately provided an answer to Springer's earlier question. What more could an Autobot want? How about a safe method of launching a ship into space? Was that so much to ask?

Mere minutes later the four Autobots had finished their goodbyes and found themselves strapped into their seats aboard the Axalon. The computer was counting down the astroseconds until their launch.

"Tell her goodbye, folks," Kup said, pointing toward the windows and the sprawling city of Iacon beyond it, beautiful even in ruin. "Odds are it'll be some time until we see her again."

He didn't add 'if ever'. Nor did he need to.

Moments later the computer finished the countdown and a tremendous burst of acceleration propelled the Axalon skyward.

OOOOO

"They're off safely," Alpha Trion said, sitting down on the metal floor in obvious exhaustion. It wasn't just his low energon levels. Having seen and experienced as much as he did there were few times he didn't feel tired anymore.

"Using the plasma energy as a propellant worked like a charm," he continued. "It's probably not wise to use it for that purpose regularly, considering the sizeable crater it produced in the landing field, but all in all it was a success."

Looking up, his optics focused on the pulsing centre of Vector Sigma.

"I still think it would have been more prudent to tell them the truth about their mission."

NEGATIVE, the computer replied. KNOWNING THE TRUE PURPOSE OF THEIR MISSION WOULD HAVE RAISED THE PROBABILITY OF THEIR REFUSAL TO GO TO INACCEPTABLE LEVELS.

Alpha Trion chuckled. "You mean you're afraid they would have chickened out? Oh, Vector Sigma, my old friend. You have given life to us all, but you still understand so little about the life you've given."

The computer did not reply, nor had Alpha Trion expected it to. Unlike the robots it gave life to Vector Sigma was not capable of such things as complex emotions, instinct, or compassion. It was aware, true, possibly even alive, but above all it was still a cold, calculating computer that followed its original programming. It could do nothing else.

"Safe journey, my children," Alpha Trion whispered, looking toward the ceiling. "Take care of yourselves."

End Chapter 3

* * *

Epilogue: Evil Never Sleeps 

"It is confirmed?" the large purple robot asked his much smaller subordinate.

"Yes, commander. Seeker patrol 172 procured visual and sensory data. The Autobots have definitely launched a ship into space."

Shockwave nodded, analyzing the data. On the surface this recent development made no sense. The Autobots were as low on energy as the Decepticons were. All sources of energy in the vicinity of Cybertron were already exhausted, used up by the war effort long ago. The probability that the Autobots had discovered a new source within practical range were minimal at best.

If the purpose of this spacecraft was not the acquisition of energy, then what was it? A possibility emerged from his vast databanks. A quick check confirmed what he suspected. The craft was leaving Cybertron's gravity well on the same heading as the Ark had done four vorns ago. The same heading the Nemesis, Megatron's flag ship, had used to follow them.

A retrieval mission then? But why now? The only sensible answer was that the Autobots had picked up some sign of life from their lost comrades. Shockwave had long ago concluded that Megatron was either destroyed or stranded somewhere so far away from Cybertron that he might as well be. Being the creature of logic that he was he saw no sense in wasting valuable energy on a rescue mission when the odds of it succeeding were slim to none.

If the Autobots were looking for their lost leader, though, they had to entertain the notion that he was still alive. And if Optimus Prime was alive, it was possible Megatron was as well. This thought evoked conflicting emotional responses in Shockwave. It was unusual for him to feel even one emotion, but two?

On the one hand he relished the though that the charismatic leader he had sworn loyalty to might still be functional. When Shockwave had first entered Megatron's services it hadn't been a purely logical decision, he knew. Yes, Megatron had provided the highest probability of success to the Decepticon cause, but there had been more than that. Megatron had hat indefinable something extra that turned a capable leader into an icon of leadership.

On the other hand, though, Shockwave had been the supreme commander of the Decepticons for all this time now. Did he really want to step back from that position? Looking at things, what would Megatron's return accomplish? The war had stagnated long before the Decepticon leader had been lost in space. Apart from a temporary boost in morale Shockwave so no reasonable gain to the cause and quite a loss to him personally.

A question for another time, surely, when more data was available. At the moment a more pressing matter demanded his attention. Whatever the Autobots were planning, he deemed it prudent to prevent them from accomplishing it.

"How long until they can generate a wormhole?" Shockwave asked.

"At least one to two megacycles, commander. Sensors show that they used external boosters to reach escape velocity and are now accelerating with minimal thrust. It will take them some time to reach sufficient distance from Cybertron's gravity well to jump."

"Good. Summon the following Decepticons and tell them to prepare for a space combat mission immediately."

**End Episode 1**


End file.
